


Girl Meets Baker Street

by Monica_Rambeau



Series: Rilaya-verse [14]
Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Adventure, F/F, Fluff, Mystery, Rilaya, Sherlock Holmes AU, also super gay, because why not?, gmw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:44:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monica_Rambeau/pseuds/Monica_Rambeau
Summary: Maya Hunter and Dr. Matthews face their greatest challenge yet in... The Case of the Confounding Chemist!(or... AT LAST! The Sherlock Holmes/Rilaya AU that literally NO ONE has ever asked for!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so... I've got nothing on this one. Hope you enjoy?

A grey and languid fog darkened the streets of London on that dreary morning in the year of our Lord 1889, as my dear companion Maya Hunter and myself sat in quiet contemplation within the warm and dry sanctuary of our Baker Street headquarters. Our breakfast only recently completed and the dishes yet to be cleared away by our erstwhile housekeeper, Mrs. Cory, we sat on either side of a cherry fire, each engrossed in a personal pastime; I, devotedly reading up on the latest innovations in the practice of medicine (my own field), while Hunter attempted to keep amused the ravenous mind with which she was burdened. The violin having recently fallen out of favor in her eyes and with no sufficiently intriguing casework to keep the crushing ennui from her soul, she had in recent days turned to painting, finding as great a skill with the brush as she did with the bow. And yet, as all of London knew, nothing compared to her skill with a magnifying glass.

 

The silence of our comradeship that morning was not, however, destined to last, as the great detective brought the bottom of her brush to her lips, clearly, to one who knew her habits, diverting from her task into more abstract thought.

 

"I must say, Matthews," she uttered, at last, "I did not think it possible."

 

"What's that, Hunter?" I returned, hoping that the breathless anticipation in my heart was not betrayed in my voice.

 

"I have often shared my distain for your excessively florid accounts of our adventures that you insist on publishing to an absent-minded populace."

 

"Once or twice, yes," I replied, a small, wry smile adorning my lips.

 

"Well, in contrast to all reason I have actually conjured cause to detest these stories of yours to an even greater degree."

 

"Oh, do tell, Hunter," I ejaculated, rising in my seat. My friend was, at once, the most brilliant and insufferable of all possible partners, and yet there is no fitting word to describe the feeling of having such an extraordinary mind as hers focused completely on one's own person, whatever the reason. As always, the experience was extremely... stimulating.

 

"You see, Matthews," she continued as if lecturing to a class of schoolchildren, "Your close documentation of our cases, however exaggerated and sensationalized, has led to a record kept of my own thoughts and statements of any particular moment. Therefore, if these statements are ever reconsidered and proven false, there is proof that I once said them, forever entombed in the annals of history."

 

I rose a bit further, a look of surprise washing over my face. "And you admit such a thing is possible?"

 

Hunter looked at me with a beneficent smile, cocking an eyebrow rakishly. The stimulation previously alluded to in this tale began to reach a fever pitch at this juncture.

 

"Why, of course! No woman is infallible! You will recall, in the case which you insisted on titling 'A Study In Purple,' I professed with some confidence that hope was a fools' occupation, reserved only for those simple-minded enough to be taken in by such an obvious carnival trick. And yet," she paused in her pacing, waving the dripping brush in her hand, "in recent days I have been given reason to dismiss this particular dictum."

 

I stared at my friend, the shock on my face impossible to hide.

 

"You astonish me, Hunter! Tell me, what has lead you to reconsider your previously cynical view of hope?"

 

"Why, you have, my dear doctor."

 

The softness of her reply and the sweetness of her smile did, I must admit, shake me in an essential manner to my core. I have certainly never outwardly shared my feelings of desire and love for my partner and friend, feelings which have, at times, threatened to swallow me whole in their overwhelming potency. Yet this small sign of kindness left me teetering on the edge, barely resisting the urge to embrace Maya Hunter in a passion.

 

"Is that... so?" I managed these words with no small amount of difficulty, a testament to the steady nerves of a medical woman.

 

"Indeed. If one such as you, a woman who in the earliest days of our acquaintance showed absolutely no sign of deductive ability or imagination, may rise to the dizzying heights of investigative adequacy at which you currently reside..." She raised her hands in wonder "... then it seems that no hope is too great!"

 

In spite of myself, I could not help but smile at my old friend. A roundabout recognition such as this, drenched as it was in condescension and diminishing to the point of offence, was often the nearest one might come to a compliment from Maya Hunter. I recognized her sincere, if failing, effort at kindness and my heart was lifted.

 

The jangle of the bell at our door quickly diverted both of our attentions, as did the frantic footsteps that followed. Clearly the venerable Mrs. Cory had been bypassed by our guest, one who must have been in an unusual state of urgency as they climbed the stairs to our sitting room.

 

Hunter listened for a moment to the ascending stomps before smiling and sitting back down in her chair, affecting a serene air.

 

"I say, Matthews, have you any taste for pie this morning?"

 

I shook my head, confused. "What an odd question, Hunter."

 

"I only ask because I believe that we are about to be besieged by an excess amount of..."

 

At that moment I turned as our sitting room door was burst open in a manner most forceful by a rightly dressed officer of the law, and one with whom we had more than a passing bit of history.

 

"Huckleberry!" Hunter grinned gleefully as she finished her sentence pointedly upon our friends’ entrance. The good Inspectors’ exuberance cut off, he turned to me with a sullen, appellant face.

 

"An' when d'ya think she might start callin' me by my right name, doctor?"

 

"Oh, I should think that she will tomorrow, Inspector Friar," I chuckled, "as is the case each and every day."  

 

Straightening his hat, the Scotland Yard official turned once again to my brilliant associate, his agitated manner once again returned.

 

"Ms. Hunter, there's been a robbery!"

 

Hunter, her thin fingers pressed together at the tips, considered only the fire.

 

"Mmm, there usually is, isn't there? I have no doubt your constabulary have the brainpower between them to light the way."

 

"Aye, mum, but this one's a bit more... peculiar."

 

Hunters’ eyes made the most subtle adjustment at the word.

 

"Peculiar?" I asked myself, intrigued, "In what way, Friar?"

 

"Well," the lawman continued, "the target was a laboratory in Knightsbridge. Some sort of chemists working there, experiments and the like..."

 

"Yes," Hunter offered absently as she gestured to the portion of our sitting room devoted to her own chemical investigations, teeming as it was with odd mixtures and glass containers of all sizes. "I am somewhat familiar with the concepts, my dear Inspector. Certainly this point is not the exceptional portion of your tale?"

 

"No, mum," Friar stumbled, his face flush. "The exceptional portion is what was stolen. Or rather… what wasn’t."

 

At last, her curiosity finally provoked to the edge of reason, Maya Hunter turned in her chair to face the young inspector, her eyes narrow and her fingers still connected at their tips.

 

"Continue," she commanded, closing her eyes in a deep concentration.

 

Inspector Friar, at this provocation, took a seat opposite my friend and myself. I sat forward, arms resting upon my knees in interest, while Hunter seemed to all the world a woman in the very depths of a deep slumber. Only those such as myself and Friar knew her well enough to know that this was, indeed, her most intense state of focus and attention.

 

“Last night, ‘round half past eleven, several bystanders witnessed a window being broken in the back alley behind the laboratory. They—“

 

“What reason did the witnesses give for their presence in the alley?” Hunter moved only her soft, supple lips as she spoke.

 

“They’d just left the pub across the road, or so they’ve said. They were taking a shortcut home. We checked the route and that sounded right enough.”

 

“Very good, Friar. We’ll make a detective of you, yet.” Hunter opened one eye to me at this, a hint of a smile curling on her mouth. I could not stifle a small laugh.

 

“In any case,” Friar continued, “They summoned an officer immediately, but in their state after the pub it took them more’n a few minutes to remember where the break-in had happened. By the time they arrived the head of the laboratory, Dr. Smackle, said that the thief had been and gone.”

 

“Did the doctor see this villain?” I asked.

 

“No, mum, but she did make an inventory of the burgled room, a small laboratory, immediately after he escaped. She says that nothing was taken at all.”

 

Hunters’ eyes opened at this, turning to Friar.

 

“Nothing, you say?”

 

Friar shook his head, as if attempting to assemble the facts of this case into some semblance of order.

 

“That’s what the doctor said, Ms. Hunter. She even tried to hurry us out of her lab, claiming it was all just vandalism and no need for the police at all.”

 

“Well, that does sound reasonable,” I offered.

 

“And yet, here the Inspector is. I assume there is one last bit of information withheld from this account, designed to heighten our anticipation.”

 

Friar smiled sheepishly. “Can’t put anything past you, Hunter.”

 

“Few can,” my friend humbly replied. “Allow me to guess: This particular laboratory has been investigated by Scotland Yard before, on reports of potentially dangerous experiments being conducted within.”

 

“Just so, mum. I covered the case m’self. There weren’t no evidence of foul play, but our expert did say that many of the chemicals and compounds in the lab could’ve been used to make explosives.”

 

“Explosives?” I startled. “Good lord!”

 

“Naturally, we can’t just assume that nothing was stolen from a location with such a suspicious and possibly dangerous history, but we’re at a loss for how to proceed. Dr. Smackle insists that nothing was taken and while she might well be lying to protect herself, we have no way of disproving her claim.”

 

There was silence for an eternal moment as the great lady sat stock still in her chair, fingers laced at her mouth, her piercing blue eyes reflecting the flickering red of the fire. Finally, she spoke.

 

“What was the temperature of the burgled room, Inspector?”

 

Friar and I, bewildered to say the least, looked at each other in response to Hunters’ extraordinary question.

 

“Why… warm enough, I suppose? With all the weather we’ve been having, I—“

 

“The exact temperature, Friar. In degrees.”

 

Friar seemed exasperated, shrugging his shoulders in frustration.

 

“I-I haven’t the foggiest, Hunter! How in blazes was I supposed to—“

 

“You weren’t,” Hunter offered as she rose, crossing the room for her hat and coat. “Merely confirming a suspicion. One can seem so sure of things in the moment, but the curse of an active mind is that new and opposing theories are ever arising.” As she spoke, I recognized the fire ignited in the heart of my longtime companion. She strode with conviction, her tone level and firm, but with an unmistakable pulse of eager excitement underneath. I could not hide my lovesick smile as I watched her make her preparations.

 

“Doctor,” she offered, turning to me, “While your companionship and good strong arm are always invaluable on investigations such as this, I have some scruples about involving you in a case so obviously fraught with potential danger. Still, if your patient log will allow and your nerves are—“

 

“You needn’t utter another word,” I exclaimed, rising and grabbing my own coat and hat.

 

“Excellent! Well done, old girl. Come then, Friar, there can be no delay in a matter of this urgency. I assume you have a cab waiting.”

 

“Just downstairs,” Friar offered, excitedly.

 

“Off to Knightsbridge, then. The game is afoot!”


	2. Chapter 2

The rhythmic clatter of hooves upon uneven cobblestones accompanied my companion, Maya Hunter, and myself as we rushed to Knightsbridge with all speed. The expediency of our trip had been of the utmost import to the great detective, but any further probing into the details of our mission was met with a stony silence, typical of Hunter as she delved deeply into a complex problem. The subtle changes to her stoic expression told the tale of the journey through her own web of logic and postulation, theories and hypotheses emerging and receding at a breakneck pace, narrowing the pathway to truth. It was a truly wondrous sight, and one that I, as always, felt most privileged to observe.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at the laboratory of Dr. Isadora Smackle, the location of the previous evening’s burglary. Hunter emerged first, outpacing Inspector Friar’s chivalrous attempt to open the carriage door. I smiled and accepted his hand down to the street as he shook his befuddled head in an effort to catch up.

“Ah, mum…” he called as Hunter strode, excitedly, toward the entrance, “The window is on this side’a the building. Don’t you wanna examine the exterior?”

“No need,” the great lady called over her shoulder with a dismissive wave. “I already know what I am looking for.”

Friar and I shared a furrowed brow and an acquiescent shrug as we hurried to follow Hunter to the crime scene.

To call the facility merely a laboratory seemed a disservice, as the building actually seemed to be a honeycomb of scientific endeavor. We strode through a long hallway, each door we passed opening into a different open space filled with Bunsen burners, beakers and bewildering concoctions. Upon the walls of each were large chalkboards, covered in chemical formulae far beyond my own specialized education.

As we traveled, although swept in a most extraordinary state of urgency, Hunter made a point to poke her head into each room, door open or closed, often eliciting a sharp exclamation from the already nettled chemists working within. After a brief swing of her buoyant golden locks she returned to her swift stride, finally slowing as she approached a room at the end of the hall with two straight-laced constables standing watch. Friar streaked past Hunter as my friend made one final stop, this one more lingering, into the room next to the burgled lab. She turned her head back, a wry smile on her face, motioning for me to join her in the doorway.

“Come, Matthews…” she gestured, her excitement barely restrained, “Observe this room, and try to retain as many details as possible.”

I raised an eyebrow at my partner’s cryptic attempts to improve my deductive abilities through instruction, turning my head to examine the room. It seemed much like the others, filled with glass and chemical mixtures. Heating implements stood at the ready, while shelves of various containers lined the back wall. Next to the window was a chalkboard, again covered in markings most alien to me, with a mercury thermometer hanging in the corner above.

“I must confess, Hunter, I note nothing out of the ordinary in this laboratory. It seems a truly unremarkable location for the practice of the chemical arts.”

With this, Maya Hunter let out a sharp laugh, clapping first her hands and then myself on the back.

“Excellent, my dear Matthews, truly excellent! Your skills improve by the minute, before my very eyes!” I made no attempt to hide the blush brought on by this exuberant praise. “You are indeed correct in your observation! Now…”

She moved quickly to the entrance of the burgled lab, pulling my own interest and wonder in her wake, as always.

“… let us recall this information as we inspect the crime scene.”

I did as I was asked, entering the much smaller laboratory. It seemed not altogether different from the previous room. Beakers and bunsens still occupied tables about the space, although in lower volume than the other laboratories. Additionally, there seemed to be a dearth of chemical components on the shelves against the walls, which were occupied in much greater number by academic texts from nearly every discipline imaginable. Upon the wall was, as before, a large chalkboard, bearing calculations and equations once again of little meaning to a novice student of chemistry such as myself.

Only two other differences than those mentioned leapt out at me in that first moment; there was a large window broken inward toward the back of the room, and this laboratory was occupied by what appeared to be a most impatient and perturbed woman in a white coat.

“Inspector, I really must protest!” The raven-haired scientist exclaimed. “I was quite clear that I wanted no further police presence in my laboratory! This is clearly a matter of youthful vandalism and of no further interest to Scotland Yard!”

“I understand your frustration, Dr. Smackle,” Friar said calmly, attempting to pacify the diminutive chemist, “But we must take every precaution. And ‘sides, these aren’t police, per say. Allow me to introduce Maya Hunter, a consulting detective working with the Yard.”

Hunter, a plastered smile on her face, finished her casual perusal of the room to extend her hand to the woman.

“Truly a pleasure, doctor,” she said, cutting off the beginning of a further protest with a vigorous handshake. “I assure you, this will be the final inconvenience for you today, and it will be quite a short one, indeed. May I present my colleague, Dr. Matthews.”

I approached the doctor, my own hand outstretched.

“Good morning, doctor,” I chirped. “Always nice to meet a fellow woman of science.”

The doctor raised a contemptuous eyebrow from behind her glasses.

“Yes, I’m sure it must be,” she hissed, ignoring my gesture and proceeding to follow Hunter anxiously as she examined the chalkboard.

The great detective stood there, utterly entranced, and although she seemed to show no outward sign of emotion I, who knew her actions so well, could practically feel the heat of eager delight exuding from her person. My friend seemed to feel that this was a rare problem, and one well worthy of her steel.

After another moment unmoved, Hunter’s inaction caused Dr. Smackle to emit a heat of her own, first directed in furious stares at poor Friar, then back to the lady herself.

“Ms. Hunter, if we could move this along!” She finally exclaimed, most outraged. “I have a great deal of work to do, and this ‘investigation’ has been an incredible disturbance to--!”

“And disturb you further we shan’t,” Hunter coolly replied, cutting the raving woman off with a sweet, syrupy tone. “Allow me to apologize on behalf of Scotland Yard for their inept mishandling of such an obvious situation.”

“’ey now, ‘ang on a moment—“Friar blurted out before a small, pale hand quickly covered his mouth.

“You see the results of hiring farm hands as inspectors. I’m afraid, my dear Friar, that this poor woman has been correct from the off. A brief examination of this space has convinced me utterly that this is a simple case of a childish prank gone overboard, and not a burglary at all.”

Friar’s eyes matched my own in utter shock, while the doctor seemed to straighten up as she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well… at last, a level head. I _said_ that nothing was taken when they first arrived, but they simply would not listen!”

“The constant braying of work mules has greatly eroded his sense of hearing,” Hunter said, patting our friend’s increasingly red face. “Some days a simple ‘ha-hurr’ is all that we can get out of him.” She turned politely to our host again.

“We shall take our leave presently,” she offered, bowing slightly before moving toward the door. At the threshold, however, she snapped her fingers and stopped.

“Oh, one last trifle, if you will indulge me,” Maya Hunter purred, startling the rather anxious chemist.

“Go on…” Smackle nodded.

“Is this particular laboratory yours?”

“Y-yes, of course. I use it for some of my most intricate experiments.”

Hunter smiled wider and nodded.

“I thought as much. Then you would certainly be the party to inform that one of your equations is incorrect.” Hunter gestured toward the chalkboard, and the miasma of numbers and symbols emblazoned upon it. Smackle turned, a look of genuine bewilderment on her face.

“N-no, that’s… not possible…” she sputtered.

“Ha! No need to be embarrassed, old girl,” Hunter chuckled cordially, “Every scientist makes a mistake here and there… though I must confess, that one is quite glaring. I daresay that is shatters the integrity of the entire hypothesis as presented... But, ah well!” She tossed her hands casually. “I shall leave it to you to correct it, as I’m sure finding it will present little difficulty to such a brilliant mind. Good day!”

The three of us were outside of the building, nearing the cab, before Friar burst with anger.

“Now see ‘ere, Hunter! I didn’t bring you in on this investigation just to be made a fool of! Sure’n I made a mistake, but there was no need for all that!”

“I must agree, Hunter,” I offered, the stern tone of a governess behind my words. “Your behavior was inexcusable. To torment poor Friar like that, simply because there was no case to be found—“

“No case, you say?” Hunter turned with a wicked smile to interrupt me. The fire in her eyes stopped all thought from racing through my mind, forcing all of my cognitive efforts into the act of continuing to draw breath. “Am I to assume that I must continue the investigation on my own, then?”

All indignation fled from the faces of Friar and myself at this question.

“Investigation?” Friar was at an utter loss. “B-but, you said that there weren’t no—“

“Oh, make no mistake, Inspector… quite a serious crime has been committed here…” Hunter spoke with a dire tone, her fingers stroking her soft chin. “Likely more than one, but none that you have yet imagined. My friends, we dance now with a most dangerous and cunning adversary… I only hope that the trap I have laid may spring right to catch him!”


	3. Chapter 3

Upon our return to Baker Street, Hunter and I found that the table in our sitting room had been laid out with a sumptuous lunch, courtesy, no doubt, of the inimitable Mrs. Cory. Yet Hunter, quite in contradiction to her normal behavior, professed having no time for food or drink, instead rushing off to her quarters. Of course, in an effort to avoid insult to our hard working housekeeper, I tucked in and began to eat, enjoying a hot cup of tea as I did so.

Two cups into my repast and I began to grow quite curious as to my companion’s activities. I knocked upon her door, only to be met with no response. Taking the liberty to enter, I discovered Hunter completely absent, having exited, as she often did, through her window onto the adjoining rooftop.

Frustrated by my exclusion from our current adventure, I took it upon myself to attempt at familiarizing myself with the more complex tenants of the world of chemistry, diving deeply into several of Hunter’s many tomes on the subject. As I did so, I found my mind wandering to the many times that she had surely leafed through the very pages that I now touched, her delicate fingers caressing the paper in search of an elusive passage, her breath catching at a particularly illuminating formula. I confess that my time was not as efficient nor as productive as it could have been, as I found myself in a state of reverie simply imagining the light touch of my dearest friend.

It was during this reverie that a short, stocky man with a bushy white mustache burst into our sitting room as bold as brass. Upon spying me he smiled, tipping his hat and dancing as merry a little jig as his frame would allow.

“Well now, as I live and breathe!” He exclaimed through labored breath, “If it ain’t me ol’ sweetheart Riley! ‘ey there, give us a kiss, luv!”

He moved in to claim the affection he desired, only to be met by the firm application of the inside of my own open hand. He was staggered by the blow, pulling back sheepishly.

“You, sir, are wildly mistaken,” I professed, straightening to my full height. “I know not who you are, and if I did besides, my heart belongs to another!”

It was here that the man stopped, straightening up himself with a new and wildly different posture.

“Oh, does it, now?” spoke a voice much higher and sweeter than the one previously speaking. Before I could place its familiarity, the man peeled off his mustache to reveal the face of my beloved Maya Hunter.

“Hunter!” I ejaculated. “But… oh, your disguise was brilliant! I had no idea—“ I cut myself off, remembering my behavior a moment ago. “Oh, my dear Hunter, I am so sorry for—“

“Nonsense, nonsense!” Hunter laughed boisterously as she removed the other elements of her disguise, revealing the petite woman of my affection. “A formidable blow, and a response to be proud of! Brigands such as my counterpart seem to run rampant in London these days, and your retort to his advances was the only appropriate measure!”

We sat, the two of us, near the fire in our accustomed seats. Hunter reclined in comfort, lighting her pipe with casual ease, while I perched on the edge of my seat, impatient for answers.

“You have a grand gift of silence, Matthews. It makes you invaluable as a companion,” she finally uttered after a long moment in that tense state.

“Well you certainly haven’t made such restraint easy…” I uttered, eager anticipation shaking my voice.

“Then I shall reward you with a full accounting of the past two and one half hours: I left our headquarters in disguise, of course, leaping to our neighbor’s roof so as to avoid connection between my alter-ego and myself.”

“But why leave me behind, Hunter?” I asked with some incredulity.

“An unwelcome necessity, I assure you, dear Matthews. Were it left to my will you would be ever at my side.”

The rush of warmth to my cheeks and the tingle of my skin could have, by a less honest woman, been easily attributed to the cherry fire before us.

“But to continue. I made my way to upper Swandom Lane, and a disreputable little establishment of my familiarity called the Bar of Gold. Within, I found the object of my search, a charming rapscallion by the name of Babineaux. This man deals in confidence schemes, fraud of all kinds, but most importantly specialized robbery. He has been known to pilfer items of great value from locations where no common citizen would expect such treasures to reside.”

“You know this, and yet this man walks free?” I asked, slightly scandalized. Hunter smirked in response.

“I am not the police, doctor, nor am I beholden to act upon every letter of the law. Young Babineaux causes little harm with his activities and is occasionally of great use in my investigations, as he has proven to be today.”

With that, Hunter pulled a small, leather bound book from her coat, presenting it as a grand prize. I was confused for only a moment before realization overtook me.

“Dr. Smackle’s laboratory! Are you suggesting that it was this book that was stolen last night?”

“There can be no doubt. Four pipes into our conversation at the bar he was all too happy to boast of last night’s activities, and I quickly took it upon myself to liberate this little prize from his person. For his own protection, if nothing else…”

“Protection?” I repeated, confused. “I’m not sure I follow, Hunter.”

“Then let me guide you further down the path, old friend. Look in the book and tell me what you can deduce from it.”

I opened the well-worn binding to find a journal, used by a scientist of great knowledge and skill. Inside were many formulae and equations, all beyond my understanding and yet, familiarly so…

“It must be Dr. Smackle’s notes on some experiment or creation.” I paused a moment as I reached a later page, squinting my eyes slightly as Hunter leaned forward in great anticipation.

“Hang on… there seem to be two sets of handwriting here… one overlayed atop the other.”

“HA!” Hunter exclaimed, jumping from her seat. “You see, Matthews? It is as I said! No hope is too great! You have hit upon the very heart of this clue’s value!”

“But what does it mean, Maya?”

“To simplify,” Hunter explained as she regained her seat, “This journal represents a collaboration between two brilliant minds, each a master of their field. One, a chemist, has outlined a new formula for a most potent explosive compound…”

“Dear lord!” I burst forth. “Then, Friar’s suspicions were correct!”

“Indeed! Quite dangerous, but all the more so when combined with the mathematical calculations provided by the second expert, allowing for maximum yield and the precise application of the formula necessary to create deadly weapons of destruction!”

I shuddered at the thought. The image of a burning London took hold of my mind.

“We must stop Dr. Smackle! If this formula were released to the criminal underworld…”

“As it nearly was today,” Hunter replied. “Luckily, for all his charms, dear Babineaux lacks the ability to interpret such a text as this one. It is safely in the hands of law and order, ready to be used in a trap to catch Dr. Smackle red-handed.”

“Then this… this was the trap you spoke of earlier today?” I was positively vibrating with excitement.

“Oh no, Matthews. The trap for Smackle is simple enough that we may leave it in the hands of Friar and his men. We have a much deadlier game to play.”

I frowned, confusion and worry overtaking my expression. Hunter continued.

“Recall the state of the laboratory that was robbed last night. What distinguished that room from the neighboring facilities?”

I pressed my mind to recall every detail of the rooms that we investigated, unable to find purchase on the elusive answer. Hunter, her eyes soft with compassion and, dared I to dream, affection, took pity on me and continued.

“Consider my first question to Friar this morning upon learning of this case…”

“Yes, your extraordinary inquiry into the temperature.”

“Precisely. Chemical laboratories, particularly ones that deal in volatile compounds, must be monitored closely for variations in temperature. Performing the wrong experiment under the wrong conditions could be disastrous.”

It was then that my mind was illuminated, and the answer sprung forth.

“The burgled room! It had no thermometer!”

“Elementary, my dear Matthews! An expert such as Smackle would never perform what she described as ‘intricate experiments’ in a laboratory without one! Therefore, we must conclude…”

“The room was not a laboratory! She merely disguised it as one after the robbery!”

“Very nearly, my dear. It WAS a laboratory, but not for chemistry. The equations on the chalkboard were purely mathematical, not chemical formulae. That laboratory housed a master of mathematics. Now…”

Hunter’s voice grew quiet and serious as she leaned forward.

“What reason could a criminal doctor have to prevent the police from learning that she was collaborating closely with an expert in the field of mathematics?”

A chill ran down my spine as one name burst into my mind.

“Hunter… surely it couldn’t be…”

“Now you see where the danger in this case truly lies, doctor. And if London is to remain safe from such evil, you and I must take this danger unto ourselves.” She rose from her chair, a serious expression worn and yet, eager excitement burst forth from the edges.

“Your hat and coat, good doctor, and don’t neglect your revolver. Tonight, my trap is sprung!”


	4. Chapter 4

The potent mist of the early morning returned to shroud London as dusk fell to the black of night, and Maya Hunter led us back to the scene of this most confounding crime. Upon approaching the chemical laboratories of Dr. Smackle, Hunter silently steered me away from the main entrance, locked tight for the evening, around to the broken window through which the scoundrel Babineaux had entered the night before. Several wooden boards covered the opening into the burgled room, but it was a simple matter to pry open one side of the barrier and enter with no disruption to the scene. After pulling the boards secure once more, Hunter and I found ourselves alone in the dark room.

 

Hunter had revealed precious little more regarding her plan or her own theories on the nature of this truly fantastic case, but her implication of the mastermind behind it all had sent a chill up my spine, not lessened by now occupying what was once his headquarters of nefarious action. Nevertheless, my own history as a military woman, coupled with my unflinching desire to be of use to my beloved companion, kept my hand steady and sure and I reached to confirm my revolver’s secure place in my pocket.

 

“What now, Hunter?” I asked in the settled silence.

 

“Now, dear doctor,” she answered, her voice barely a whisper, “We wait. And we may wait for some good time. But I pray you, don’t fall asleep! Your ready hand may be all that stands between the success of our trap… and death.”

 

Bolstered by the faith in my abilities held by my friend, I joined her in crouching behind a large table opposite the chalk board on the far wall. There we sat, in a state of perpetual readiness, waiting for our quarry to arrive. As the minutes extended into hours, I did, indeed, feel the pull of exhaustion laboring against my eyes. Yet I needed only to turn my head and gaze at the unmoving face of Maya Hunter for my resolve to be steeled once more.

 

And still, as we waited, Hunter’s words circled my mind time and again, reinforcing the thin line in our endeavor between victory and certain doom. As the clock approached midnight I had, through my internal tribulations, reached a conclusive decision: If death truly did approach this night, then I would not risk reaching that undiscovered country with my secret love still clutched within my chest. I turned once more to Maya Hunter, her beautiful blue eyes glistening in the faint moonlight peeking through the fog, and opened my mouth to finally release the truth of my longing.

 

But before even a syllable could be uttered, we both heard the faint click of a doorknob being turned, and knew at once that our enemy had arrived at last. His footsteps were nearly silent, gliding over the wooden floods as gracefully and stealthily as a cat, moving with grim purpose toward his destination. He lit his lantern upon reaching the chalk board, and in the illumination we could see his back turned to us completely. I spared only a passing glance at Hunter for approval, which she provided in the form of a brief nod before springing to her feet, opening her own lantern to shine on our prey as I trained my revolver on same.

 

“You simply couldn’t resist, could you… Professor Minkus?”

 

The tall, thin man before us raised his hands to his side slightly, acquiescing to his position, before turning to reveal a narrow, smiling face with which I was quite familiar.

 

Professor Farkle Minkus. Master mathematician, peerless genius and the Napoleon of Crime. He sat at the center of all that was vile and nefarious in London, as a spider in a web. We had crossed swords with his devilish mind more than once, but it was clear that Hunter hoped for this encounter to be the final coupe in our deadly duel.

 

“My dear Hunter,” he oozed with a beneficent air. “Of course, the odds of there truly being a flaw in my brilliant work here were slim at the very best…”

 

“… but the chance that I might have bested you in the arena of the mind was too egregious to allow even the possibility.” Hunter chuckled, nodding to the pistol in my hands. “The very definition of irony, wouldn’t you say, Matthews?”

 

“Without question,” I replied, my tone matching the level strength of my hand.

 

“Ah, and of course, the detective’s attack hound! Has she finally housebroken you, ‘doctor,’ or must you remain outside on a leash come sundown?”

 

“You’ll learn all about leashes soon enough, Minkus,” Hunter balked, defensively, “As Scotland Yard is about to put you on quite a short one.”

 

“And what laws, precisely, have I broken here?” Minkus practically sang to us his condescending question.

 

“To speak nothing of the many, many crimes for which the Yard would have your head, at this very moment Inspector Friar is apprehending your compatriot, Dr. Smackle, as she attempts to reclaim her stolen journal. You recall this journal, do you not, old friend? It outlined several quite explosive new hypotheses… with your handwriting utterly dripping off of the pages.”

 

The mad genius let his proud smile slip at this, turning instead to a sneer.

 

“So it’s to be murder, then? Shoot me in cold blood here among my godly works?”

 

Hunter let loose another loud chuckle, as I stood stone still, my eyes and my pistol trained.

 

“Oh, no such release for you, Minkus. You’ll meet right British justice before the dawn breaks. Besides...” Maya paused, looking at me with a smile, “we would never shoot a poor, unarmed fool.”

 

Minkus’ smile returned.

 

“Oh, my dear Maya Hunter… a genius is never truly unarmed.”

 

In a flash of movement the professor swung his outstretched arm, launching a small beaker from its position on the table next to him toward myself. At this motion I fired a shot, but the blast was knocked errant as the flying glass shattered against my wrist, cutting my flesh and causing me to, foolishly, drop my weapon. Hunter had but an instant to react, but this brief window was occupied by a turn of the head toward my own person, concern blazing in her eyes.

 

Alas, this hesitation was long enough for Minkus to lunge for my gun, retrieving it and aiming in one smooth, cold motion. It took only the slimmest instant of comprehension for me to see that his sights were trained on my beloved, and without a thought I slammed my body into hers, knocking her from the path of harm as the gunshot rang out.

 

At this point in our story, dear readers, I am afraid that my own ability to accurately describe the events which transpired becomes quite unreliable, as the bitter sting of metal meeting flesh, a sting I had known too well in my past, stole from me many of the senses employed by an author. I struck the floor quite hard, of that I am certain, my left hand grasping across my chest, a warm liquid quickly pooling in my clenched palm.

 

And yet, as my eyes closed I heard Hunter, her voice raw and afraid, calling my name with more emotion that I had ever experienced in her. Had I been able, I would have smiled quite widely. My lashes flickered, allowing me to see her turn toward Minkus, his gun still drawn.

 

“You… MONSTER! How DARE you harm the most precious jewel this world has ever forged?! Has your depravity no end, that you would steal the very essence of light and love from me?!”

 

I heard her rise to attack, then the click of a hammer.

 

“Temper, Hunter. Don’t rob her sacrifice of purpose by forcing me to kill you as well.”

 

I heard a low growl from my love as previously stealthy footsteps made retreat out of the door, an evil laugh following them down the deserted hall.

 

The villain gone, I felt two soft, loving hands grasp my unmoving cheeks, and warm, sweet breath burst forth in bucking sobs as tears fell upon my lifeless face.

 

I decided, at this moment, to relieve my dear friend of her grief, and opened my eyes with a smile.

“Why Hunter,” I offered calmly, eliciting a gasp from my companion, “Have a care, would you? Salt water with tarnish the shine on a precious jewel.”

 

I must confess taking a great deal of delight in the astonished face of Maya Hunter at that moment. To be on this side of such an exchange was quite a rare thing, indeed.

 

“My god, Matthews! But… but the shot—“

 

“Only grazed my shoulder, dear girl,” I explained, sitting up from my landing on the floor. “No source of comfort, I assure you, but hardly fatal. When I felt the shot, I feared that Minkus would fire again upon learning of my light injury or, worse, turn the weapon upon you. And so, I smeared the blood down to my chest and feigned death, knowing that vile creature would rather you live to suffer the loss of a friend than to simply kill you.”

 

The shock on Hunter’s face gave way to joy in one simple laugh, bowing her head in what might have appeared, to one who did not know her, as a silent prayer of gratitude. She raised her head, tears still falling along her brilliant smile.

 

“Ha… As fine an example of character deduction as ever I’ve witnessed, dear doctor.”

 

We both turned as a bell sounded from the front of the building.

 

“Friar’s men,” she said, still short of breath. “They have captured the devil. It would seem our trap was a rousing success!”

 

Incredulous, I raised an eyebrow at the impossible woman before me.

 

“Indeed… allowing for minor injury and a bit of improvisation…”

 

“Nonsense, Matthews!” Hunter attempted to speak with her usual bluster. “It was a certainty in my mind from the off that you would be capable of steering our enemy into the embrace of justice, should my own skills be found wanting. After all, you are my---“

 

“Essence of light and love?” I asked, boldly, my heart beating in my throat.

 

Hunter stumbled at this, searching the room with her eyes for an answer that might save her from any emotional display.

 

“Well… I was going to say ‘apprentice,’ but, ah…”

 

And then she looked down at me, and all pretense seemed to melt away. The steel in her eyes grew soft, and a lightness seemed to lift her perfect lips into a smile.

 

“Yes, my dear, dear Matthews. That you are.”

 

And here, gentles all, I once again fail in my task as storyteller, for there are no words in my arsenal that may adequately convey the feeling in my breast as Maya Hunter leaned down and captured my lips with her own. Let it suffice to say, then, that to have the most brilliant mind in the world focused solely on a soft kiss is an experience transcending intoxication. Indeed, it seemed as if the greatest mystery of all had, at last, been solved.

 

My love pulled back, her eyes closed and her smile euphoric, as I swooned beneath her.

 

“Oh, Hunter…” I sighed.

 

“Riles…” she replied, eyes still closed. I started a bit at the odd permutation of my name, though I could not deny the warmth I felt in this new familiarity.

 

“Why, Maya, what a strange—“

 

“Riles!” she interrupted, her voice now sounding quite far away, as if shouted from a great dis—

 

“RILES!!”

 

\-----

 

Riley’s head bolted up from its resting place, tearing a page out of her book as she did. After sleeping on it for a few hours, the drool had formed a pretty serious bond.

 

“C’mon, Riles,” Maya whisper-yelled, hand on Riley’s shoulders. “It’s 2 AM. Come to bed.”

 

Riley pawed at the sleep in her eyes with the back of her hand.

 

“Gotta study…” she moaned, only half awake.

 

“Dude, your English Lit test isn’t until Monday! You have all day tomorrow, and you need sleep, you big dork!”

 

Riley nodded, her tangled, messy hair swaying all around her as she rose into her girlfriend’s arms.

 

“College’s hard…” she mumbled, as Maya carried her toward their bedroom.

 

“Well, it ain’t elementary school…” the blonde sighed.

 

At the familiar word, Riley suddenly smiled, running her hand up inside Maya’s shirt.

 

“Whoa! Hey, I thought you were sleepy…” she chuckled.

 

“I had a good dream…” Riley purred, her hands continuing their exploration as they neared the bed.

 

“Mmm, tell me more…” Maya cooed.

 

“You can read all about it in The Strand next month,” Riley proudly bantered.

 

Maya stopped as they reached the bed, turning to face her girlfriend.

 

“What?!”

 

Riley shook her sleepy head, grinning like a loon.

 

“Forget it. Just call me Dr. Matthews,” she moaned, stealing a lingering kiss before falling back onto the bed.

 

Maya cocked an eyebrow.

 

“You are so weird.”

 

Riley propped up on her elbows, much more awake.

 

“You love it.”

 

As she descended onto the bed herself, Maya couldn’t help but smile.

 

“No shit, Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! Finally finished it! Definitely the most fun fic to write yet! Hope... anybody enjoyed this??
> 
> Comments and reviews are like a strong cup of tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping that posting this gets me off my ass to finish the other chapters. I've got them all plotted out, I just need to, y'know... write them. 
> 
> Feel free to comment and review!


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